A Touch in the Wind
by ImperfectWonderland
Summary: He couldn't let go of her. Not yet. He needed her voice. He needed her touch. He needed her.


_Let me just say this:_

_I'M LEGITIMATELY CRYING. WHAT THE HECK. _

_Anyway, hello friends~ I have been neglecting fanfiction and I hate myself for it so I wrote something up. This idea has been circulating in my mind for awhile and I just really wanted to write it. Geez, I'll I ever write is just angst. Sorry about that. _

_As a disclaimer, this is rated T for a reason. There is a lot of "f-bombs" (it's Paul, what do you expect), so if the f-word makes you uncomfortable, I'd advise you not to read this. Plus, some sad stuff happens. You have been warned. _

_Have fun, and I wish you luck_

* * *

"_Hey, it's Dawn! Sorry I didn't answer—my phone's probably on silent and I probably ended up forgetting about it. _Whoops. _Anyway, leave me a message and even your name if you want. I'll call you back and have a nice day!"_

Paul shifted in the bed and rolled his eyes. Really though, did he _expect _her to answer? He kept on forgetting she was on a trip. The girl was probably busy as ever doing who _knows _what.

However, when Paul heard the beep, he opened his mouth and said, "Your phone is probably on silent again. God, sometimes you're too much to handle, Blue. Anyway, this is one of those few times I'll ever say this, so pay attention. . . I miss you. Come home soon. I'll call you later. I love you."

* * *

The familiar message played again, and Paul immediately started his message when the beep sounded.

"Today was one of the worst in a long time. That fucking idiot, Ketchum, screwed up again at work and _I_ was the one who had to fix it, as per usual. How is he your best friend? I really don't understand you. You're so fucking weird. But I love you. I hope your vacation is still going good. I love you."

* * *

He listened to the message, practically mouthing every word before he spoke.

"I don't know, today was kind of good. I haven't had one of those kind of days in a while. I went to go play with Reggie's kid. Elyse misses you. She even made a drawing of me, you, and her. Don't you ever repeat these words, but it was really fucking cute. I'll show it to you sometime. I love you."

* * *

Today's daily phone call was different.

In the morning—at 8 a.m. sharp—Paul got up and dressed and was out the door by 8:15. He in his car and silently drove. When he arrived at his destination, he parked the car, slid the phone out of his pocket, and dialed the familiar number.

It rung. And rung. And rung.

Just like it always did.

No one answered.

But then, her voice mail played, just like it always did. He just couldn't let go of her. At least her voice was _something _that was left.

"Hey," he began. He licked his dry lips. "Today's a little different than usual. I-It's been a year since—" Paul clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut. Behind the eyelids, his eyes stung and he felt a lump rising in his throat he couldn't swallow. "—since that day. It's been a-a whole fucking year, Dawn."

He remembered everything perfectly. How that morning, Paul held onto her in bed, telling her not to go out on the roads when it was _this_ icy. The soup kitchen could wait for another time. But she refused, getting up and smiling and getting dressed in her cute coat and scarf and mittens and earmuffs until she looked like a pink marshmallow. He remembered how she said she _needed _to go so the homeless could have a good lunch the day before Christmas Eve. Because she was just that _good _of a person. That's what Paul always thought, though she always shook the compliment off. It was no big deal to her.

Paul remembered how he sat up in bed and how she came over and gave him the same smile she always gave him that made his stomach flip and his heart go absolutely crazy. She kissed him once but he pulled her down for another and another until she finally pulled away, her laugh brightening up the room.

He told her to be careful and to drive with even more caution than she normally drove with. He offered to drive her there, but she said no, that she'd be okay. That she'd be back.

But she wasn't okay. She never came back.

Paul remembered sitting at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers against the wood impatiently. He remembered hearing the knock on the door and relief coursing through his veins. Finally she was home. She was safe.

However, when he opened the door, it wasn't her. It was a policeman.

He remembered going to the scene and having to make sure that, yes, it was her. He nearly collapsed, having to hold on to the smashed car for support. He felt tears drip down from his unblinking eyes, freezing at the tip of his chin. Freezing water.

It was the ice.

A car was speeding, not paying attention. When the driver saw the light red and they slammed on their breaks, it was too late. They were slipping on the ice, completely out of control. They spun into the intersection and collided with a car. Dawn's car. She died instantly on impact.

Paul remembered the driver apologizing over and over, sobbing because of how sorry they were. He remembered how he was frozen in place and couldn't utter a single word. He left as soon as he could and went home, curling up in a ball and crying into her pillow that still smelled like her shampoo.

He remembered the horrible feeling in his chest when he talked to Dawn's mother for the first time. When he held her because she was still too weak and shocked from learning her one and only child was _gone. _He remembered how all their friends were crushed, especially that fucktard, Ketchum. How they all tried to be there for Paul but he pushed them away.

And finally, he remembered just how much he missed her. Everything aspect about her from her freckle below her left eye to her toes that were always cold in the morning when they touched his legs. He remembered how she'd wake him up every morning with an enthusiastic smile and shout of how today was going to be a great day. He remembered how she was the only person he ever truly loved.

And now, he _knows_ he can't be without her.

He took another shaky breath and felt the tears falling down his cheeks. He continued the message.

"I miss you so much. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and I just _can't _do it without you. I _need _you. I'm worthless without you. Please, Dawn, just come back. I love you. I love you so much and I always will. I'm empty as hell and I can't even get up in the morning. I love you. I need you to help me, Dawn. God, I knew dating you would make problems for me. Fuck, _I love you_—"

The message ended.

Paul stepped out of his car and found her grave. He sat on his knees, ignoring the snow that was soaking through his jeans and freezing his legs.

He uttered two words in the silence. "Help me."

Nothing happened; he didn't expect anything either.

He stood up, staring at the spot once more before turning and walking towards his car, lips pressed together. But as he was walking, he felt a strange sensation run through his body. He felt _warmth _in this fucking graveyard where it was fucking ten degrees.

The wind blew through his hair and he knew if he ever told anyone what he felt, they would've thought he was fucking crazy.

But he could've sworn as the wind blew past him, he felt it wrap around him, cradling his body close to something warm telling him everything was going to be okay, before it finally moved on.

The wind. . .it always invisible but it was always there. Like how she would always be. Whenever the wind touched him, he knew it was her.

* * *

_Okay, this turned out way longer than I thought. I was aiming for three hundred words but hey i'm not complaining about over a thousand-writing has been so hard for me lately. _

_But seriously, I'm so sad now. Why do i do tHIS TO MYSELF. _

_I hope you didn't think Paul was OOC but honestly how else is he supposed to react? _

_I hope you enjoyed this too and didn't get too sad by this and I don't know i just hope someone out there enjoyed this because that's why i write, i just want you all to read and like it and then we'll all eat cookies and ice cream and pudding and everything will be great._

_and p.s. I don't know if i like the title or not. What do you think?_

_Sorry for my lack of writing. I'm working on it. _

_-ImperfectWonderland _


End file.
